


You Will Find Yourself Waiting

by Gileonnen



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Distracting Suspicious Onlookers with Threesomes, In Which Callum Does a Cold Read and Sees the Frustrated Horniness in Teben's Soul, M/M, Mild Comeplay, Mild Painplay, Multi, PWP, Quasi-Nietzschean Hive Philosophy, Shadows of Yor, Transcending the Self, Wild Shadow Ragers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: Teben Grey is looking for a quiet place to be alone with his thoughts. Instead, he finds Dredgens Vale and Cull seeking privacy of their own.
Relationships: Teben Grey/Callum Sol/Shin Malphur
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	You Will Find Yourself Waiting

The Shadows of Yor descend on Dredgen Scarr's place after their last matches--she's still punch-drunk, crackling with electric energy. It mingles on her violet skin with something darker and more potent. "A toast!" she proclaims. "To everything we're becoming!" Her voice booms off the cavernous walls of her den.

"Fuck off, Zana!" yells one of her roommates, half-dressed on a landing like a mezzanine, but Scarr just flips them an indignant middle finger and turns on the music.

Immediately, the beat vibrates through Teben's skin. It resonates in the hollows of his sinuses; it rattles the bony cage of his chest. The shredding shriek of the guitar line hits him like a warsat striking concrete, impossibly hard, impossibly fast. Scarr gives a primal screech to match the high, skirling scream of Hive witches, then drags Totalus into a dance.

As though her scream is a signal, the Shadows scatter. Some join the dance; some slink off to raid the kitchen; a few fetch up in sheltered alcoves to snort powdered Hive chitin and get their hands under each other's armor.

The room seems to heave with heat and eagerness. For several long moments, Teben watches his people dig deep into their celebrations, and he can't name the thing he feels. His gut twists; his heart aches as though it's been wrung dry of blood. It's hard to breathe. _This wasn't the door I meant to open,_ he thinks, with a desperation like grief. _When we shed the old carapaces of ourselves, this wasn't what I'd meant us to find._

He climbs the stairs, watching the writhing bodies beneath him--the gyrations of hips, the sharp angles of wrists--and feels himself an alien thing.

He'll go to the library. Scarr has an excellent library; there will surely be something there to occupy his thoughts. Things are more certain when they're pinned to the page. They slip less easily through his fingers. What he needs is to drown himself in Hive apocrypha until the present slips away like a thin skin, until he emerges from this uncomfortable chrysalis remade.

He pushes open the library door and closes it swiftly behind him, shutting out the noise and the heat and the giddy riotous press of other people. For a moment, he just stands with his eyes closed and his back to the door, feeling the music pound in him like a second heartbeat.

The springs of the couch cushions creak, and Teben's eyes snap open.

Vale and Cull are sitting side by side with their heads close together. Vale's face is bloodied from the Crucible, his lips split open, but that dark sliver of blood only highlights the dark, luscious curve of his lower lip. Cull has a hand on his knee--casually possessive, Teben thinks. As though he has every right to touch. As though there's nothing to be ashamed of in being seen.

Teben dips his head. "Apologies," he says. "I hadn't realized you were--I was only looking for somewhere quiet to--"

"Don't be sorry," says Cull, and although he scarcely raises his voice, it cuts through the noise of the party like a blade of sunfire. There's an avidity in his expression that's utterly arresting. Teben could no more breathe than he could leap to the moon. "Is that not what you taught us? Shed the strictures of your old self. Cast shame and guilt aside; they're only shackles that hold back your evolution."

Vale darts a look at Cull. Reading his cues, Teben thinks. Making a choice.

Teben hadn't realized until then that there was a choice to be made.

When Vale turns back to him, his dark eyes gleam with what Teben can only call promise. He leans back, chin raised, letting his knees spread open. Cull's palm slides down to graze his inner thigh, and Vale's lips part as though in invitation. Teben's mouth goes dry. "Do you want somewhere quiet?" Vale asks, low. "Or somewhere private?"

It's everything he wants. It's everything he's told himself he isn't allowed to want, during those long muddled nights of poring over Hive texts with Orsa at his shoulder. He looks at Orsa--at Dredgen Vale--and feels once more the hushed, trembling rapture of revelation.

 _Cast shame aside,_ thinks Teben. Even now, the thought makes his skin prickle and his stomach feel leaden and sick.

But he crosses the floor all the same, and he bends to kiss those perfect, bloody lips.

Vale opens for him, and for a moment, it feels like he's falling into a long abyss. He licks into Vale's mouth, into the copper-edged sharpness and heat of him, until he's swallowing Vale's moans with every sweep of his tongue. Still something eludes him. Still he can't chase Vale deep enough to wring it out of him.

Then Cull's free hand curls in his hair, holding him in the kiss, and suddenly Teben is _here_ \--viscerally, ineluctably present, knee pressed between Vale's thighs and hand fisted in his cloak. The cut on Vale's lip has opened again, and Teben sucks hungrily at the raw, split flesh.

When Cull drags him back by the hair, at first, Teben is afraid. Sure that he's imposed on something Cull has claimed. But Cull's gaze is steady and intent, and under its pressure, Teben forgets his fear. He leans up to be kissed, and Cull closes the distance between them. He kisses as though he's drawing the breath from Teben's lungs, all power and focus; he kisses as though he knows that everything he desires is his.

Vale unlatches Teben's hand from his cloak, and Teben lets him guide it down between his legs. His palm fits to the curve of Vale's cock, hard beneath the unrelenting leather of his armor, and he longs to know what it feels like. How heavy it would be in his hand, on his tongue, deep in his throat--how it would taste, salt-touched with the promise of come.

Cull's teeth catch in Teben's ear, and he gasps at the sweet pain of it. "Do you like when it hurts, Bane?" Cull whispers. Teben can't tell whether the hammering in his ears is his pulse or the music.

He doesn't know what he likes. He only knows that he doesn't want this to stop. "Yes," Teben says. It feels like a plea.

The leather gives way under his hand. He feels the soft fabric of Vale's trousers, the waistband coming undone, just as Cull bites down on the tendon on his neck.

The pain cuts through everything. His nerves kindle into bright skeins of fire; a white light bursts through him as Cull's teeth sink deeper into his skin. Teben cries out until Vale smothers his mouth with kisses, and he clutches Vale as though he's a lifeline.

It feels transcendent. It feels like transformation.

Cull licks one of the marks he's left on Teben's neck, waking echoes of that brilliant ache. "I want you naked for me," he says against Teben's skin. "Both of you."

Vale grins. "Thought you'd never ask."

Teben tries not to think about his own body as he unclasps his robe. He knows his own faults intimately; if he pays too much attention, he'll find himself cataloguing the concavity of his chest or the slim lines of his wrists. It's easier to watch Vale strip down--the slow baring of his fine, spare form, the elegant whipcord muscles and the sharp vee of his hips. The soft, dark hair around his beautiful cock.

Teben can't help himself; he can't think why he would try to help himself. He sinks to his knees at Vale's feet and takes him in hand, bringing Vale to his lips to lick and suck.

Vale looks down at him, his face inscrutable, his eyes wide and dark. He brushes back Teben's curls with something like tenderness, and Teben wants nothing more than to be touched like that again. He sucks Vale down to the root, deep enough that his throat shudders around the head of Vale's cock, and watches Vale's eyes roll back with pleasure.

He feels Cull behind him, radiating heat, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to slide off of Vale's cock to take Cull in his mouth. Cull is long, thick; the join of his legs is musky with Crucible sweat. Cull cups his head in both hands and pulls him down and down and down, until Teben's throat burns with the strain and his eyes are streaming. "Good," says Cull, a low purr as intimate as a thought, and that single word sends a shiver coursing through Teben's body.

Something clicks near Teben's ear; he feels Vale shift, then hears a soft, slick sound.

"Sit back," says Cull. His voice is almost gentle. "Watch. Your turn will come."

When Teben leans back, he sees Vale poised with one foot up on the couch, his hand between his legs. His fingers shine with lubricant. He works them over tight muscle of his hole, circling, smoothing himself down, until the very tip of his middle finger slides in.

Vale glances over his shoulder. His eyes meet Cull's. Something unspoken passes between them, something deeper than hunger and more primal than love, and Teben longs to understand it.

Then Cull fits his hand to the curve of Vale's backside, and he slides his fingers in along with Vale's. They work him open together, slick hands meeting and interlocking, until Vale is stretched wide enough to fit six of their fingers. By then, his cheeks are flushed a hectic red, his mouth hanging open in exertion or bliss.

Teben can't help touching himself. His fingertips graze his own entrance; he wishes it were Vale's, and he were permitted to touch. Or he wishes he were as open, as ready for Cull's cock.

When Cull catches Vale by the hips and slides home, Teben feels each thrust like a blow. He works one slim finger inside himself, and it _hurts_ and he wants it to hurt—he pumps himself in time with Vale's pants, Cull's thrusts, the creak of the couch cushions, the unceasing clamor of the drums.

Vale finishes with a cry into his own hand, and Cull pulls out of him still slick and hard. He looks down at Teben, kneeling on the floor, and smiles a predator's smile. "Like what you see, Bane?" he asks.

Teben only nods, dry-mouthed.

"Do you want me inside you?"

Again, he nods.

"Open him for me," Cull says, and Vale kneels beside him. He kisses Teben, a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, then urges him to rise. His fingers are still wet with his own come.

Suddenly, Teben understands what they've planned for him, and his cock aches with anticipation.

Teben climbs up to his hands and knees. His arms are trembling as Vale's fingers slide inside him, circling and searching. _Spreading himself inside me,_ Teben thinks, and it sends a hot pulse of longing through him.

The click of the lubricant bottle again, and then he feels something slicker and wetter working into him. He thinks he can feel three fingers now, tightly pressed inside him, picking out every knotted cluster of nerves and awakening it.

Then Cull's heavy hand is on the small of his back, holding him still. Teben bows his head and braces himself, palms flat to the floor, knees aching. It's the closest thing he knows to an attitude of prayer.

When Cull fills him up, Teben lets go. The music fades; the memory of gunfire fades, and the harsh consonants of Hive speech, and the guilt and the shame of who he has been. All of them fall away.

There are stars behind his eyes, and they grow brighter as his climax approaches.

He is becoming. They are becoming, together.


End file.
